


The Cruel Wars

by pikablob



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild Gore, Pre-Slash, Rue wins the 74th Hunger Games, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: In the burning ruins of District 2, Prim is forced to confront the girl who took her sister from her.





	The Cruel Wars

Arriving at District 2 was like entering into hell. The peacekeepers had dug in the moment District 3 fell, filling the buildings with soldiers and the streets with traps. The fighting was street-by-street, gunfire and flashshot echoing between crumbling buildings. The sky was blackened by smoke from the fires, and every few minutes there was a deafening roar as another wave of supersonic hovercraft screamed into the fray.

Prim’s team had made camp in the bombed-out ruins of a store, running triage for the various units ahead. It was a nightmare; there were soldiers with missing limbs, flash-blackened faces, gaping wounds, and guts hanging out like spaghetti. Once, Prim would have run screaming at such sights, but she was a medic first and foremost and she would not balk at her patients.

The screams and moans of the dying filled the room, even as the medics scrambled to heal those they could and spare the rest. The radio was cracking constantly, filled with various units demanding medical aid. They had too few medics to send full teams; they had long been reduced to sending a single person to respond to each call.

“Prim!” Twill’s voice called out above the cacophony. Prim stood up, stepping back from the broken leg she and Bonnie had just set. She hurried over.

“What is it?”

“You’re needed in the field,” the woman said grimly, “Squad 148 says they’ve got a casualty: life-threatening flashwound; their field medic’s KIA and you’re the only one I’ve left to send.”

“Where?” Prim demanded, already packing up a medical kit.

“Two blocks up Titus Street, near the plaza.”

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll head out now.”

She headed for the door. “Just be careful!” Twill called, a mixture of concern and fear worming its way into her expression. It was clear she wasn’t happy sending children into the firing line, but what other choice did they have?

Prim nodded again and set off, heading up the shattered streets as fast as she dared. The front was further up, where 148 were waiting, but even here she had to pick her way through fresh rubble and the bloody corpses of fallen peacekeepers. She followed the sounds of battle, pressing on until her path was suddenly blocked.

Across the road lay the twisted wreck of a Capitol transport hovercraft, lying on its side. It was still burning, the fire leaving black scorch marks over the once-gleaming white and red hull. One of the doors was hanging open, and the charred corpse of a peacekeeper hung out, arms dangling limply above the street.

“Over here!”

She turned to see a rebel soldier leaning from the doorway of one of the ruined buildings. She hurried over, trying not to stumble over the rubble beneath her. He watched her with a stoic expression, seemingly nonplussed by her age.

“You’re from medical?”

“Yes,” she replied, following as he led her inside, “Medic Everdeen, Medical Corps 155.”

“Captain Boggs, Squad 148,” he said. He stepped aside, revealing the rest of his unit. They were sitting in the middle of a bombed out room, all but two crouched down around another soldier who was lying on her back in the centre. She was quietly groaning in pain, clutching at her side, and the broken concrete was stained with the blood leaking through her uniform.

Grim and steady, Prim walked over, setting down her medical kit and snapping it open. “I need space,” she ordered, and the soldiers reluctantly stood up and stepped back. She quickly looked over the patient; she focused on the injured side, ignoring the soldier’s face, but from her build alone it was clear she was no older than Prim. Not that that was surprising by this point; neither side in this war had many qualms about murdering teenagers.

Prim’s training took over as she administered a morphling shot, then set about dressing the wound. The unit had had the sense to get the girl’s armour off, and some attempt had been made to staunch the flow with torn fabric, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Prim cut through the bindings and uniform, exposing a ragged hole burned through the dark skin and deep into the flesh beneath. The whole area was blackened and charred, blood leaking through where the cauterisation hadn’t gone deep enough. It smelled awful, the copper tang of blood mixing with the stench of grilled meat.

The girl was lucky; if this had been a bullet wound she would have bled out long ago like so many others. It was only the fact that solar rifles cauterised the wounds they caused that had kept her alive. Not a pleasant thought, considering how painful the burns must have been.

By now, the girl was far away, deep under the influence of the painkillers. She didn’t even react as Prim disinfected the wound. She just lay there, until the moment Prim went to reach for a bandage, and her head rolled over to stare at her saviour with those morphling-dilated pupils. Prim froze, recognising the face instantly.

How could she not, when that face had been on every television and holoscreen in Panem for the past year? The whole nation had seen the 74th Hunger Games; every district had waited with baited breath until the last two remaining had been Katniss and the girl she was protecting. And in the end, Prim’s sister had given one last defiance by ending her own life to give this girl the victory.

Prim had managed to avoid Rue after that, even after the escape to District 13 and the outbreak of war. It cut deep, knowing that Rue was somehow responsible for taking what little family Prim had left. She knew, deep down, that Rue wasn’t truly to blame, but the wounds were still fresh and Prim resented herself for feeling them.

But she was a medic first and foremost, and whatever personal feelings she had wouldn’t affect the treatment she gave. Before she was even finished thinking her hands were moving again, slathering burn salve on Rue’s side and tightly binding the wound like she’d learned in training. Finally she stood back up, and the other soldiers rushed back over.

“She should survive,” she said quietly, “But we need to get her back to triage to make sure.”

“Understood,” Boggs acknowledged, “Jackson, you and I will take her back; everyone else hold here.”

As they headed out, Rue carefully carried over one of the other troopers’ shoulder, Prim finally had a moment to think. It just didn’t seem fair; after all the hell of the arena, Rue was still denied a reprieve. At the very least she deserved some recognition, but the rebels had found their symbol in Katniss' martydom and she was just an accessory.

The scream of more hovercraft overhead, mingled with another flare-up of nearby gunfire, ripped Prim from her thoughts. She started moving, following Boggs back down the ruined streets. And then they were back at the triage station, back into the hell of wounded and dying.

Rue was set down and without even glancing back the squad turned back for the front. Prim dove right back into the work; the moment she set foot inside she was greeted by a man whose right wrist was a bloody stump, and set about bandaging it even though she knew he had probably lost too much blood already.

She didn’t take another field call that day, working ceaselessly as the battle wore on. But as the light faded and the dead piled up, she caught herself glancing over at Rue more than once, hoping the girl would make it through.

* * *

Prim was on break, resting in what had once been the Nut’s officers’ mess. With District 2 now firmly in rebel hands the Capitol had nowhere left to run, and hers was one of many units granted a brief reprieve while plans were made and fresh troops brought up.

She was sitting there, quietly contemplating the past few days’ events, when the soft padding of footsteps drew her attention. Too used to watching for enemies or incoming casualties, her gaze snapped up to meet Rue’s. The other girl froze like a deer in the headlights, expecting Prim to turn and storm out like she had back in District 13. But Prim just stood up and slowly walked over to her.

“How’s the injury?” she asked flatly.

“It’s, better, I think?” Rue said quickly, stumbling a little over her own words. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me out there, Primrose, and…” she trailed off, trying to find what she wanted to say.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your sister.”

Prim was silent for a moment, before she spoke slowly. “She made her choices,” she said finally, “She volunteered for me, and she died for you. There was nothing either of us could have done, and I’m sorry I’ve been holding you responsible for that.”

“I understand,” Rue replied quietly. “I always got upset whenever the older children would get hurt protecting me and my sisters from the peacekeepers. I know it’s not the same, but I see how you feel.”

“Yeah,” Prim breathed. “It wasn’t just about Katniss, though. My mother didn’t take the loss well, not after losing my father already, and she couldn’t go on…” She did not cry; she couldn’t, not after all she had seen, but she felt the lump form in her throat.

Out of everything, she wasn’t expecting Rue to gently take her hand. She nearly jerked away in surprise, but managed to stop herself. It was strangely comforting, and she found herself wondering how she had ever resented the girl from District 11.

“I still have my family,” Rue said after a moment. “If there’s nobody left for you after all this is over, you could always come with us?”

“If we both make it out of this,” Prim replied, “Then I’d like that.”


End file.
